Ceiling Cat is Black

Simba is a cool tabby who's been making school suck less at Westbook High School in Maine for more than ten years. He greets the kids in the morning, then makes the rounds of the class rooms, sitting on students' books and generally "intruding," inspiring and spreading his catty goodness amongst the student body. School officials are careful to keep him away from allergic students, but if you want to read a bunch of wimps that still want to whine about it, check out Yahoo Shine.

Simba is providing comfort to kids, teaching them kindness and teaching them tolerance. The kids are honoring him this week with an art show featuring portraits they have made of him. Kids and cats are awesome.

We've seen cats at work as hypnotists, train station masters and security guards, but we've never seen a sheriff cat. But here we have a beautiful black Ceiling Dog, who is doing a remarkable job putting fear in the hearts of criminals, cops, and bystanders alike with his crazy antics.

Ivan (whose human handler, strangely, is named Pickles) saw a suspect throw a gun out of a vehicle. In the interest of guarding the public from the imminent harm of an inaminate object sitting in a snowbank, sheriffs heroically gave some sort of fetch command and Ivan scrabbled around, found the gun, and managed to pull the trigger.

The Essex County, Mass. Sheriff's Department is reviewing the negligent discharge. Remember, Ivan, there's no such thing as an accidental discharge.

Luckily, because of Massachusetts' strict gun control laws, all of this was impossible and could not have happened.

This document is from the year 1445. You can read more about it here. I can just imagine the medieval scribe at his work and then his cat cluelessly walking through his ink and stepping on his book.

On the other hand, perhaps the cat's markings have deep meaning too sublime for human understanding. The cat is a creature of beauty. They enact beauty. It should not be surprising if they also try to create it.

The Story of Twitch, a NYT Bestselling Cat, Part 3

How NOT to Introduce a New Cat

So I took Twitch home, put him down in the front room and expected him and Mr. Kitten to be instant friends. I later learned that this was not the best approach, to put it very mildly. Naturally the shelter gave me a handout telling me how to introduce a new cat. It would have been a great help if I had bothered to read it.

Mr. Kitten hated the intruder. I didn't notice that Kitten wasn't letting Twitch get to the litterbox until I saw poor Twitch had peed on the floor. I'd got Twitch to be a companion for Mr. Kitten, but Mr. Kitten wasn't happy with the idea.

Mr. Kitten would rumble and stare at Twitch. I'd never heard Kitten make that noise before. It was so deep that it seemed to come through the floor. I thought the construction site across the street was making the noise, but every time I said "Is that you, Mr. Kitten?" the noise would stop for a few seconds. So it must have been him.

The cats didn't fight, but Kitten would jump on Twitch's back and bite his neck. Twitch would just take it. "Go along to get along" seemed to be his motto. He did put his paw down on one thing though. He did not allow Mr. Kitten to interfere with his dining experiences, which were plentiful and often. I didn't realize it at the time, but he wasn't "eating for one" or "eating for two". He was eating for hundreds--he had worms.

I held many "catnip parties" for the two cats, hoping that cats who got stoned together could make a home together. Twitch is a teetotaller, though, but Kitten! Mr. Kitten would just get polluted. He wanted catnip all the time, and his eyes would glaze over. I think part of this was a reaction to the stress of having an unwelcome new roommate. Nowadays, he still partakes of catnip on occassion, but he's not a total niphead like he was.

Kitten's animosity gradually subsided. After a couple weeks, I got it into my head to give Twitch a bath. I guess all the bad smells from the shelter and the street had clung to Twitch and it bothered Mr. Kitten. The cats got along much better after that, but they still weren't friends.

Then one evening I looked over and saw Twitch using his paw to open a cabinet as Mr. Kitten sat watching him. Twitch opened the cabinet and let it close. He repeated the procedure, then stood back. Next Mr. Kitten went up to the cabinet and opened it. He had never opened a cabinet before. Now he opens them all the time. I don't think Twitch has opened a cabinet since he did the demonstration for Mr. Kitten. From that evening on they were friends.

Rags to Riches

Twitch is a friendly cat. He enjoys birdwatching, meditating, napping and spending time with friends.

I adopted him in February of 2001. He was already an adult then. He was skinny, full of worms and his breath could peel paint off the walls. He was also a little sick and his front leg had been shaved because he'd been given an IV in the shelter. Shelters often euthanize cats that are sick, and I'm so glad that he escaped that fate.

On the night I went to the shelter, I had only planned to look around. I was interested in getting a friend for Mr Kitten. I wanted to get a black adult cat. I think black cats are the most beautiful, the ultimate cats. I wanted an adult because I wanted to already know the cat's personality. Plus, I figured all the kittens would be easily adopted, so why not adopt a friend who might not have a chance otherwise?

Visiting the cat room at the shelter was like going into a museum or Tiffany's. The cats, even in their utilitarian cages, were a feast for the eyes, each one a living work of art, all within my reach, all offering the possibility of love and companionship. But no, no museum or store has moved me in the same way. There's no comparison between moving, breathing, creatures of grace and charm and flat objects of metal and stone, the mere works of mortal men and women.

I looked at and considered all the cats, but I kept coming back to a midnight black one with jade green eyes.

I looked at him and slowly blinked my eyes. Then he blinked his eyes. Then I blinked mine. Over and over. A lady looked at us and said, "I think you've found your cat." Indeed I had. I couldn't take him right then because I had a dinner engagement, but I told him I'd be back.

The next day I woke up early--I was afraid someone might adopt my little treasure before I arrived--but I was lucky. I took him to his new home.